


I Can't Lie To Myself

by cameronmonaghan



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Post 312, Sad, depressed!Mickey, ian is gone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 04:01:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2908595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cameronmonaghan/pseuds/cameronmonaghan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey is aching while Ian is away. It's easy to lie to the others, but when he's alone is when it hurts the most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can't Lie To Myself

**Author's Note:**

> Just needed some angst. Enjoy!

Mickey woke up out of a miserable sleep with a start, sitting up. His body was covered in sweat, breathing harshly against the stale air of the bedroom he shared with his wife. Glancing over at the pregnant whore, he felt his stomach turn as nausea washed over him. He was going to vomit.

Mickey got up and rushed to the bathroom. Kneeling over the toilet, he gagged before hurling into the porcelain bowl. What a shitshow, he thought to himself. Inhaling deeply through his nose, he made a face at the smell of the vomit, reaching for the handle to flush it away. Out of sight, out of mind. That was how Mickey Milkovich played this game called life.

Or, tried to.

Ian had only been gone eight days. Today was the hardest yet. Each day being harder and harder, Mickey wondered how long he could handle this. He stood up from the toilet, rubbing his forehead. His eyes began to glaze over, but Mickey clenched his fists, refusing to cry. He wanted to go lie back down, but not with her. So, Mickey walked to the living room and stumbled onto the couch, curling up into the back of it. He reached for the pathetic excuse of a blanket draped over the back, wrapping up in it, closing his eyes.

His heart panged immediately, the pain traveling down to his stomach and up his throat all the way to his ears. It hurt so bad, so unlike any pain he'd ever known. Curling tighter in on himself, the tears formed again. Mickey told himself that it was because of the physical pain, but he knew that this physical pain was his body literally experiencing a heartache. If Ian were here, it would be better. He could give that stupid grin and Mickey would know that everything was okay. But nothing was okay, and Mickey couldn't lie to himself.

It took about thirty seconds before Mickey realized he was sobbing. It was a silent, heart wrenching sob, one that had his shoulders shaking and hands trembling. He curled up even tighter, feeling like he was dying inside. After a few seconds he kicked his legs out and punched the back of the couch, his body fighting the sobs, before realizing how exhausted it was, giving out on him. He laid perfectly still, tears rolling down his face. Ian might be dead, he thought, confronting the truth. Ian ran away because Mickey was too afraid to stand up to his father. It hurt so bad to realize that standing up to Terry would have been a lot less painful than this, but he had feared for Ian's life, knowing Terry was a relentless pig. Ian never quite understood exactly what Terry Milkovich was capable of doing. Mickey knew, and he'd wanted to keep Ian safe, so he married the whore who raped him just to do so.

Thinking about it hurt, and not thinking about it was an impossibility. Mickey didn't believe in God, but tonight he prayed, begged to Him to bring Ian home safe and soon, telling this God that he'd do anything.

That's the way Mickey fell asleep, tonight, yesterday, and every day since Ian left. A restless sleep that allowed his body a few hours of escape each night from all of the over thinking and aching.

Until Ian was back, Mickey Milkovich would not be okay.


End file.
